


Princess

by Jimena



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:52:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5761942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimena/pseuds/Jimena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble on Leia Organa's various titles</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princess

Princess.

 

She had always hated that title.

Her father had just called her Leia. Her _real_ father, not that monster in a mask who--. No. Oh, she was most certainly related to the man who had once been Anakin Skywalker by blood. She accepted her own feelings— _rage, hate, pain, it’s not fair!—_ feelings that flowed through her veins like acid at times, as proof of that. Luke might even accept him as their father. But not her. Never her.

_Her_ father had warm eyes and a ready smile. A smothered yawn, a warm lap, and stories full of truth and justice, life and laughter, hope and _light_ for a little girl with a tear-streaked face awakened by yet another nightmare of _fire_ and _pain, oh force, so much pain_. A steady hand on her shoulder and a worried hint of a frown on his face as they said goodbye for what she now knows was the last time, and oh, how she wished she’d hugged him back instead of brushing him off with a laugh and a _Don’t worry, Dad! It’ll be fine. I’ll be back before you can even miss me!_

 

Princess Leia.

 

_Wear it like armor_ , her mother had offered with a soft laugh when Leia hugged her from behind and asked her how she could stand being Queen when she couldn’t even go one day without being berated by her aunts for “behavior unbecoming a princess.”

_Think of “Princess Leia” as a mask and a shield for Leia Organa_. Her mother had turned and touched her forehead and heart, playfulness gone from her face. _Let it hide and protect you._ _Do you understand?_

She hadn’t back then. She had wanted to fight like the Jedi in the stories her father told her.

_Of course you do, dear heart,_ her mother had said, tone oddly sad and eyes flashing in what she now recognizes was fear. _But first you must train for battlefields that can be far more deadly_.

So she sat through her etiquette lessons until she could show no emotion through the endless royal ceremonies. She sat through her language courses until she could conjugate Huttese verbs in her sleep. A princess had to learn politics, laws, rules, duties, forms of address, how to speak, how to be heard, when to bow, when to curtsy, when to take offense, and when to compromise.

And when the scattered remnants of her people look to her for guidance still, even when _it’s all her fault,_ she gathers the tattered remnants of her pride about her and holds her head high. She thinks she understands now what her mother meant.

 

Princess Leia Organa.

 

_Senator_ , she corrected, for the third time since she’d arrived.

_Ah yes, of course!_ The Senator from Coruscant waved his right hand in her direction, sloshing the drink held in his left. _My apologies, Princess_.

_Senator_ , she corrected, for the seventh time, keeping her mask properly bland even as she seethed inside at the continued slights, both intended and not.

_Senator_ , she corrected, for the fifteenth time, as the Senator from Kuat interrupted her speech on the floor.

_Senator,_ she corrected for the thirty-eighth time, and she hated the Senate and its blatant futility. She hated her title a little more.

_Senator_ , Mon Mothma had greeted her warmly, after the Death Star’s destruction, eyes sympathetic.

_Princess_ , she wanted to correct, for the first time.

 

Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan.

 

Can you still be royalty with nothing to rule? Alderaan, with its snow-capped mountains and verdant meadows, its clear lakes and softly glowing cities bathed in the last long light of day, its people, vibrant and peaceful. _Peaceful!_ she wants to scream at the universe, _They didn’t deserve this!_ Alderaan, that beacon of light and hope in the empire’s shadow, is gone. One miscalculation, one flash of green energy, and Alderaan, her home, her parents, her _people_ are gone.

And there is a gaping hole in her heart that no empty title can fill.

 

General.

 

She does not need a shield. She needs a sword.

She had always hated her title, yet she still feels a pang of regret when she casts the mask of _Princess_ aside for the mantle of _General_. But she is Leia Organa still, and as long as she draws breath, so perhaps, does a small piece of Alderaan.

And that will have to be enough. She will make it be enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ...this turned out a lot more depressing than it initially was in my head. Hope ya'll enjoyed the dose of Alderaan feels.


End file.
